The Desendant
by MiniShimi
Summary: MOVIEVERSE The story of Sleepy Hollow told in the same format, only the mystery includes as well whom the desendant of the Headless Horseman is.
1. A Mission

In one way or another, I'm going to get my ass kicked for uploading so many new stories. I will finish all of them. I've actually started on a few but I haven't had much time to upload and finish.

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****Disclaimer:** I do not own Sleepy Hollow, nor Johnny Depp...-sigh-**

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A Mission**

**A** bell clamored loudly in the moonlight hour, echoing off the cobblestone streets of Eighteenth Century New York City.

"Where are you?" Called a young constable, running to the docks of the Hudson. He, along with another constable was patrolling the streets when they spotted someone in the dark along the dock, crouching down near the water.

"Over here!" Came the reply from the young man. Both constables raced over to where he was standing.

"Constable Crane? Is that you?" Said one of them, approaching the young man.

"It is none other." He responded. "Come quick, I have found something, and I need your help with it."

One of them lifted his lantern to reveal a young man no older than twenty-four. He was tall and a bit lanky with pale skin, high cheekbones, messy dark brown hair, and eyes as dark as the deepest abyss, nervous and unsettled. The constables peered over the dock and saw the bloated body of a man, presumably dead, floating downwards in the murky river.

"…Which was lately a man." He added, paling suddenly.

Two of them reached in and pulled him out as Ichabod Crane covered the lower part of his face, feeling a sudden wave of nausea wash over his thin body.

They carried the bloated body to the city watch house in a wheel barrel and stopped in front of the stand of a snobby looking old man, well known as the High Constable. He lifts the covers off the body and takes a look with faint disgust on his faded features.

"Burn it." He said bluntly, as Ichabod's expectant face fell.

"Yes Sir." Said the first constable, wheeling the body away.

"Just a moment if I may…" Ichabod inquired. "We do not yet know the cause of death."

"He was found in the river. Cause of death, drowning." The High Constable said in annoyance.

"Possibly so if there is water in the lungs, but…by pathology, we might determine whether or not he was dead when he went into the river."

"Cut him up?" The older man looked over at him in ludicrous. "Are we heathens? Let him rest in peace – in one peace as according to God and the New York Department of Health." He finished in a mutter.

Ichabod, clearly frustrated, opened his mouth to protest more on the matter when he stopped himself. Just then, two different constables walked in, supporting a half conscious man on their shoulders.

"What happened to him?" The High Constable asked raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing Sir." Replied the first constable. "Arrested for burglary."

"Good work. Throw him in."

The two men toss in the thief into the cell, head first, and he landed onto the ground with a sickening thud. The whole action has caused the young constable to flinch visibly.

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"Gentlemen!" Ichabod Crane began, standing in the gloomy courtroom before the Burgomaster and the High Constable, early the next day. "The Millennium is almost upon us. In a few months we will be living in the nineteenth century –!"

"Constable Crane!" The Burgomaster said in annoyance.

Ichabod held up a piece of paper. "I have here a confession to the murder of a man I fished out of the river last night!"

"Stand down!" The High Constable yelled angrily.

"I stand up, for sense and justice!" Ichabod continued a little passionately. "Our jails overflow with men and women convicted on confessions worth no more than this one!"

The Burgomaster banged his gravel, for silence in the room, from the murmurs in the crowd.

"Constable, this is a song we have heard from you more than once but never before with this discordant accompaniment. I have two courses open to me. First, I can let you cool your heels in the cells until you learn respect for the dignity of my office…"

Ichabod held up a hand in interjection.

"I beg pardon. I only meant well. Why am I the only one who sees that to solve crimes, to detect the guilty, we must use our _brains_ – " The Burgomaster and the High Constable frowned at this " – to recognize vital clues, using up-to-date scientific –?"

"Which – " The Burgomaster interrupted. " – brings me to the second course. Constable Crane, there is a town upstate, two days' journey to the north in the Hudson Highlands. It is a place called Sleepy Hollow. Have you heard of it?"

"I have not."

"An isolated farming community, mostly Dutch." The Burgomaster continued. "Three persons have been murdered there, all within a fortnight…each found with their heads lopped off."

Ichabod swallowed.

"Lopped off?"

"Clean as dandelion heads, apparently. Now, these ideas of yours, they have never been put to the test…"

"I have never been allowed to put them to the test!" Ichabod said in outrage.

"Just so, granted. So take your experimentations to Sleepy Hollow and deduce, er detect the murderer. Bring him here to face our good justice. Will you do this?"

Ichabod swallowed again.

"I shall, gladly."

"And remember – it is you, Ichabod Crane, who is now put the test." The Burgomaster finished in quiet dour.

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Ichabod sighed as he approached the coach parked before his home. He looked back and saw a little red-feathered speck in the sky, then entered the coach. It took off through the city until it reached the city limits and plunged onto a dirt road leading into the wilderness.

As the coach lumbered along, day slowly fades into night, and a wolf howls in the not to far distance. Ichabod looked up in alarm and immediately shuts the shades of the window.

The sun rises, marking the beginning of another day. The young man woke up to find the surroundings of his travel vehicle through a sun-dappled forest, upstate.

He picked up his leather satchel and placed it on his lap, checking its contents. He picked up a Bird-in-Cage Spinning Disc Toy, played with it and watch it as the images blurred together. In a short time, he puts it down and looked onto his hands. He fingered the strange puncture wounds on his palms, each hole evenly dispersed from one another.

After a moment, he returned to looking through his satchel.

Soon enough, it became late day, and the coach made a stop at the gates of a desolate town. Ichabod stepped out with his bags and headed over to two massive stone pillars.

He stopped unsure as he surveyed the scene before him. He looked back just in time to see his coach turn the bend of the dirt road, disappearing around the bend. He faces forward and stepped fourth up a long straight road to the town.

'_This is only the beginning…'_ Ichabod thought in false enthusiasm as he made his way into the village. He was, however, vaguely aware of the three dead ravens hung by twine above him between the pillars.

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R and R if you want.


	2. Legend of The Headless Horseman

Here you go...chapter two is up and running. Have as much fun as you can!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own the copyright to Sleepy Hollow...both book and film.**

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Legend of The Headless Horseman 

**I**chabod looked about his gloomy surroundings in quiet curiosity as he past a church and a graveyard. The road quickly became lined with rows of businesses and aged two-story homes.

_'Quite a cheery little town, isn't it?'_ He thought to himself.

As he stepped through the square, he noticed an elderly woman standing in the doorway. He gave a polite nod of greeting, but the woman backed away into her home and shuts the door.

_'Very friendly as well.'_ The grim thought passed through. He looked up in time to see someone close the shutter of the second-story window.

As he continued, he sees that there were a couple of Riflemen positioned at vantage points on the roofs. He stopped to observe several dirt farmers gathered at a strange looking wooden bunker in a field, carrying riffles. A young boy walked over to the Designated Rifleman with a picnic tied up in cloth and a stone bottle of beer. The Designated Rifleman took the bundle and gave the boy an affectionate pat.

"Do not worry son." He said with a confident smile. A farmer leads the boy away as his father heads into the bunker.

Ichabod pondered at this as he trudged ahead. He came to a hill and perched on top was the grand Van Tassel Manor, with the windows aglow. He stopped at the front door and pounds on the metal knockers. He quickly noticed a couple shamefully displaying their affection to one another in the shadows. He slightly reeled back in disgust as the double doors slowly swung inwards, to reveal a harvest party. He shifted forward, searching the laughing and joyful crowd for the host of the home.

Ahead of him, young men, women and children in a circle, were playfully taunting a young woman in a blindfold. She was being spun around by a handsome young man, and was quickly released.

"Remember that this is not an average game of The Pickety Witch. No, no my friends and lovers – " She giggled at this. " – this is in fact, a game to avoid the deadly kiss of the accursed witch of the Western Woods." She made a lunge for them, but she only met air, narrowly missing Brom Van Brunt, the man that spun her. "If you are caught by her lips, the air you drink will be your very last sip." The women giggled as they avoided her searching hands. "But if luck is on your side, then keep in mind to have life in hide."

Ichabod tried to pass through without interruption, but he found himself caught by the blindfolded raven. There was a sudden silence among the group, both out of playing the game, and out of quiet puzzlement at the woman catching a stranger instead of one of their own.

A slight frown appeared on her face as she touched his face, much to the new comer's awkwardness and Brom's displeasure.

"Tis not someone I recognize. A stranger perhaps?" She murmured gently.

"I beg pardon for intrusion, ma'am." Ichabod said, blushing at the woman's soft fingertips brushing against his lips.

A devilish grin slowly appears on her rosy lips.

"Do not be shamed for any intrusion, you have indeed stumbled upon the sudden clutches of the witch. Your doom is a kiss of poison." And she leaned in to kiss him, but not where the usual kiss is planted in a game, but it was placed boldly on his lips.

Ichabod gasped as he felt the pressure and fiery jolt in his body. Brom seethed behind him and many of the others gasped, though it should not come as much as a surprise to anyone at such bold behavior from this young woman.

The woman suddenly pulled away, and removed her blindfold to reveal a stunning set of emerald gems, blinking in wonder and roguish daring.

Ichabod tried to compose himself at the sudden beauty of the woman before him.

"I…u-um, I am looking for Baltus Van Tassel." He just couldn't tear his eyes away.

"I am his daughter, Ailyn Karenza Van Tassel." She said, not looking away either.

"And who are you, friend?" Brom placed in, his eyes filled with raging jealousy. "We have not heard your name yet."

"I have not said it." The constable answered back smartly. "Excuse me…" Before he could do any more, Brom grabbed him by the collar and pulled back the baffled man.

"You need some manners." He snarled.

"Brom!" Ailyn snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"Come, come – " Boom a voice from the stairs. "– We want no raised voices…" The voice belonged to a man in his early fifties; a kind smile graced his features. "It is only to raise the spirits during this dark time that I and my good wife are giving this little party."

A woman, Lady Van Tassel, appeared from behind him. She was a mixture of a well bread woman and a homespun wife. Brom suddenly released Ichabod, much to the new comer's relief.

"Young sir," Baltus opened his arms in warm greeting. "You are welcome even if you are selling something!" The atmosphere of the room soon became relaxed.

"Thank you, sir." Ichabod spoke up. "I am Constable Ichabod Crane, sent to you from New York with authority to investigate murder in Sleepy Hollow." There were multiple reactions from four different men on his announcement.

"Well," Said one of them. "What use is a Constable?!"

"Then," Lady Van Tassel gave the man a reproachful look before turning to Ichabod. "Sleepy Hollow is grateful to you, Constable Crane. I hope you will honor this house by remaining with us until…"

"Until you've made the arrest!" Brom interrupted. Baltus frowned at him and Ailyn rolled her eyes.

"Well spoke!" Baltus said to his wife. He then turned to Ichabod. "Come, sir. We'll get you settled." He called to the musicians. "Play on!" He led the new guest up the stairs.

Ailyn looked after them with interest, as Brom took note of where her attention was suddenly directed, and clenched his jaw in discontentment.

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Ichabod stepped into the Parlor, greeted by five men in grim silence.

"Excellent! Come in!" Baltus said. "Leave us, my dear." He murmured to his wife. "I would like to introduce you to Magistrate Philipse, Reverend Steenwyck, Doctor Lancaster, and Notary Hardenbrook."

Ichabod nodded in greeting and began his speech of investigation.

"So. Three persons murdered. First, Peter Van Garret and his son Dirk Van Garret, both of them strong capable men, found together, decapitated. I will need to ask you many questions, but first let me ask – is anyone suspected?"

Baltus looked confused.

"I do not understand you."

"I say, is there any one person suspect in these acts?"

The men looked at each other, mainly over at Baltus with expressions that read "Useless!" and "I told you so!" Baltus made a weary once over at Ichabod.

"Constable…how much have your superiors explained to you?"

"Only that three were slain in open ground and their heads found severed from their bodies…"

"The heads were not found severed." Steenwyck answered. "The heads were not found at all."

Ichabod nearly chocked on air.

"The heads are _gone_?"

Hardenbrook leaned forward.

"Taken. Taken by the Headless Horseman." His voice was cragged. "Taken back to hell."

"P-pardon me, I…?" The young Constable didn't know what to say.

"Perhaps you have better sit down." Baltus gestured to a seat on the couch, and lit his pipe. He then poured a drink and handed it to him.

"The Horseman was a Hessian mercenary, sent to our shores by German princes to keep Americans under the yoke of England. But unlike his compatriots who came for money, the Horseman came…for love of carnage…and he was not like the others….

"He rode a giant black steed named Daredevil. He was infamous for taking his horse hard into battle…chopping off heads at full gallop.

"To look upon him made your blood run cold, for he had filed down his teeth to sharp points…to add to the ferocity of his appearance.

"This butcher would not finally meet his end…"

–FLASHBACK–

_Winter. Cannons are booming in the distance. Daredevil appeared, galloping into the clearing, and suddenly, he falls onto the ground with a loud whine. The Horseman got up, and pets his horse lovingly and quickly looked up with silent rage within his demonic eyes._

_Six Revolutionary Soldiers appeared from the woods, and gave chase firing their rifles. The Horseman turned around and fled into the woods._

"…Not far from here in our Western Woods…" Baltus continued.

_The Horseman continued through the woods, into deeper bush until he comes across a small cottage. He pushed through the door and closed it behind him. He turned to see a beautiful young maiden, standing by a lit fire completely startled. There was a sudden pounding at the door and the Horseman looked at her almost pleadingly. The maiden understood immediately and she motioned for him to follow her into another room. She quickly lifted a thin throw off the floor to reveal a trap door. She opened it, and without another word, the Horseman entered. She closed it and re-covered the door._

_She stood up and quickly glided to the front door. She opened it and the soldiers pushed their way in, as they searched the entire home for any sign that the Horseman was there. After a thorough search, they found nothing and they left her alone._

_After locking the door behind her, she quickly made her way back to the trap door and lifted it, peering into the grateful eyes of the Horseman._

"It was then, the Horseman had fallen in love… After a few days however, he knew had had to take leave. For there were too many soldiers that went by in search for him. It was partly to avoid capture, and partly for his new love's safety.

"He marked his escape near the break of dawn…"

_The Horseman quickly traveled through the thick snow. He quickens his pace as he heard gunshots not to far behind him. He took a brief look back, drawing his sword, but stopped as he happened upon two young girls gathering firewood. They stood frozen in their spots for a long time, until one of them dropped the firewood and ran._

_The other one remained, holding the Horseman's gaze for a long beat._

_He raised a finger to his lips, in warning for her to stay quiet. But all failed when she snapped the piece of wood in her hands clean in half._

_There was a responding shout from one of the soldiers in the trees and the Horseman turned to face them. The girl ran as the soldiers spread out before the man, marking the beginning of a bloody and gruesome end of the Horseman._

–END FLASHBACK–

"They cut off his head with his own sword. To this day, the Western Woods is a haunted place where brave men will not enter." Baltus neared his conclusion. "For what was planted in the ground that day was a seed of evil."

Ichabod, clearly spooked, said nothing.

"And so it has been for twenty years. But now the Hessian wakes – he is on the rampage, cutting off heads where he finds them."

Ichabod noticed his shaking hand, and quickly placed his cup onto the table. He stared up at the older male.

"Are you…saying…? Is that what you believe?"

"Seeing is believing!" Hardenbrook exclaimed. Baltus placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

"No one knows why the Hessian has chosen this time to return to the grave." Doctor Lancaster placed in.

"Satan has called fourth one of his own." Steenwyck stood up and picked up a thick book from a side table. "They tell me you have brought books and trappings of scientific investigation – this is the only book I recommend you study." He dropped the Bible on the table in front of Ichabod, making him jump.

He gingerly lifted the front cover and saw a page with the Van Tassel family tree. He closed the book and snapped out of his thoughts.

"Reverend Steenwyck…gentlemen…murder needs no ghost from the grave. Which one of you have laid eyes on this Headless Horseman?"

There was a pause.

"Others have. Many others." Hardenbrook said. Ichabod smiled skeptically.

"You will see him too if he comes again." Baltus said. "The men of the village are posted to watch for him."

"We have murders in New York without benefit of ghouls and goblins." Ichabod added.

"You are a long way from New York." Baltus said in quiet warning.

"A century at least. The assassin is a man of flesh and blood, I will discover him."

"How do you propose to do so?" It was Steenwyck's turn to be skeptic.

"By discovering his reason. It is what we call 'the motive.' This mystery will not resist investigation by a Rational Man."

"There is, in fact, a rumor that the Headless Horseman had left behind the Maiden with child – " Hardenbrook began.

"But it is a fact that was never proven!" Steenwyck interrupted.

"Even if it were so, gentlemen, we may need to find out who the descendant is, and figure out if they are indeed the ones committing the crimes." Ichabod stated.

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Yep...second chapter...R and R! 


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